"We're making up for lost time," architect L. Craig Roberts says. "We have seven historic districts, and people here are putting a lot of time and money into bringing back the fine old buildings." Until the elegant restoration of long-abandoned 19th-century Battle House Hotel is complete in mid-2005, the only hotel that captures Mobile's historic personality remains Julie Beem's Malaga Inn. Her family created the Malaga (MAH-lah-gah) by adding a courtyard and lobby to join a pair of 19th-century town houses. Julie has upgraded it from there, and she and her staff exude Southern hospitality.

Nearby parks make international statements. In LoDa, the lovely, fountained Bienville Square pays homage to the city's French heritage (1702-63). In the sweetly restored neighborhood around Eslava Street and Washington Avenue, British Park commemorates the Brits' rule (1763-80). And catty-cornered from the inn sits Plaza de España, or Spanish Plaza. There, plaques and statuary reveal that the Spanish ruled Mobile from 1780 to 1813, when U.S. soldiers seized the city. Today Mobile and M·laga, Spain, are sister cities (thus the inn's name), and a park inscription pledges the loyal connection: "True friendship can never be confined nor restricted by our countries' borders nor by the oceans nor by the years."

Over thick pecan waffles at the Spot of Tea, fifth-generation Mobilian Danielle Ludlow elaborates on the area's cosmopolitan nature: "Most cities are melting pots," she says. "But Mobile is more like a gumbo. It's a European culture, but also African-American, Caribbean. There's a lot of tolerance here, an attitude of live and let live."

Perhaps because of that orientation, historically Mobile has not borne as much racial strife as some Deep South cities. Still, in the 18th and 19th centuries, its waterfront was a commercial hub for cotton and slave trades. That story unforgettably comes to life at The Museum of Mobile, on South Royal Street. Near folk artist Noah Turner's cedar carving of a shackled slave, visitors witness the sights and sounds of a ship bound from Africa to the port of Mobile.

Leaving the museum, patrons experience a much different voyage on Capt. Carol Bramblett's Joshua. Carol spent more than nine years building the two-masted wooden schooner and now runs sailing charters. Visitors board at The Grand Mariner Marina and Restaurant, on the city's southeast side. Carol often sets a course that parallels Mobile's bustling seaport and a skyline that's looking better all the time.

Private investment, local pride nourished by the recent tricentennial, and fourth-term mayor Michael Dow's plans all promise continued revitalization. Leon Maisel, who recently returned to his birthplace to head the convention and visitors bureau, ticks off the progress: Cooper Riverside Park, overlooking Mobile River vessels headed to and from the Gulf; the Outlaw Convention Center, which replaced the old banana-boat docks in 1993; and a maritime center with groundbreaking set for early 2004. "Mobile got disconnected from its waterfront," Leon says. "But we're undoing those sins."

And it's all happening without changing Mobile's unique personality. "We're a port city," Danielle says. "We think that if it's not on the boat today, it'll come tomorrow. We don't stress too much. We enjoy life."

Even Mobile's marble-festooned cemeteries attest to that philosophy. On the resting place 0f local son Eugene Walter, the author and international bon vivant has a final word: "When all else fails, throw a party." That's Mobile.